


Symphony

by Keyshiano



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - High School, Fox Stiles, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat Mentioned, Minor Original Character(s), Sterek Reverse Bang 2017, Wolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 09:41:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11272890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keyshiano/pseuds/Keyshiano
Summary: “Look,” Derek sighs as he gets up and starts to stack his binders and books on top of each other, “maybe we should just do this individually instead.”“No!” Scott shoots up from his spot at the table, “look, Stiles can help! He’s really great in Anthropology. He can help you with whatever the project is on. For real!”“Psy-cholo-gy,” Derek huffs, annoyed once again that he has to dumb something down for Scott. The Werefox shouldn’t be hanging around someone this unorganized and discombobulated.“Well, he can do that, too! Stiles is good at everything,” Scott smiles crookedly.Derek’s contrasting eyes meet with Stiles’s across the table.“And he means everything.” Stiles winks.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sterek Reverse Bang with the wonderous art from @EmissaryStiles on Twitter!

 

Loud bass rumbles throughout the infrastructure of Scott McCall’s home, almost to the point where he has to cover his ears in order for his brain to stay in between them. Scott admires his best friend, with whom he’s having one of his (so called) legendary sleepovers with, AKA their “Saturday Specials,” but Stiles isn’t exactly in touch with all of his senses. The boy slides into the kitchen with fuzzy sock-covered feet, nearly falling, definitely flailing, but babbling along to the instrumentals nevertheless. He’s got on plastic, black sunglasses (something he totally put on immediately following Ms. McCall leaving for her night shift, because wearing sunglasses while in the house is a big superstition) and loose-fitting shorts, grasping one of Ms. McCall’s wooden kitchen spoons in his hand like a microphone. The beginning of Madonna’s _“Hung Up”_ starts to assault Scott’s ears, but he’s used to it, considering everything, and Stiles whoops as if it’s the first time he’s heard it, which, it isn’t—he’s played it five times in a row and Scott is almost positive that every deputy in the Beacon Hills Police Department is on their way to raid his house because of several disturbance calls.

“Stiles, would you turn that down, bro? Or at least put on some good music that isn’t at high risk of causing an earthquake?” Scott complains and winces when he smells the frozen Digiorno’s pizza in the oven beginning to burn.

“You, Scott McCall, are a registered Stiles Offender and I will not stand for it any longer!” Stiles cries.

“Then sit down for _two_ seconds,” Scott throws back pleadingly, “ _only_ two, and then you can go back to being yourself.”

“Scotty,” Stiles scoffs, slightly tipping the sunglasses down the bride of his upturned nose, “Don’t be such a Grinch. It’s not even December, yet.” He picks up where he left off, continuing to throw his hands in the air and run around throughout the house.

He never changes the song.

 

Scott and Stiles have been the best of bros since they were in the womb. Their parents were friends throughout their young-adult lives and grew up together, just as the boys had. When things got rough with Scott’s parents’ divorce, he had stayed with Stiles. And when Stiles’s mother passed away from Frontotemporal Dementia, causing the sheriff to have a depressed air around him, Stiles stayed with Scott. They had always attended different schools, though. Well, really only Stiles attended the “different” school. A scholarly private school for Omegas only—El Corleone. With his father being the sheriff of Beacon Hills, it was a heavy weight off of his shoulder knowing that Stiles would be around people of his own dynamic. For Stiles, it was a waste of time, left a taste of discrimination in his mouth and an extra thirty-minute-long drive. But he had made some friends there, so whatever. It really was no different from any other school besides the uniforms and mandatory Omega-Wellness classes, which are nothing more than your average Teen Living classes with a stupid label on them.  

Scott, on the other hand, attends Beacon Hills High, home of the Cyclones and one of the best lacrosse teams in the area’s district, with a mix of supernaturals of every dynamic and size. If Scott wasn’t practicing after school, he was assisting at the local veterinarian’s office with his mentor, Alan Deaton. With Scott being an Alpha, he grew up protective of Stiles in a way that no one else was. There were certain things that you just couldn’t tell your parents, and with Stiles’s only parent left being a Beta, it made things difficult to express. Scott defended him against bigots and comforted him when needed be, and Stiles tried to do the same. Because, hey, Omegas could be assholes, too.

Nothing was awkward between them, as it should be. This wasn’t the 50’s—they could do that kind of thing, have that kind of relationship.

Scott is focusing on preparing the now-finished pizza on separate plates when Stiles announces that he’s getting the video games down from Scott’s room so that they’re able to play downstairs, because no eating upstairs is allowed (another one of Ms. McCall’s rules. And, okay, fine, Scott doesn’t want Stiles making a mess up there, either).

Stiles is stumbling down the stairs bearing cases of various games from various themes for various consoles, leading his way into the living room where he sets up the space for them. There’s a box of multi variety chips that small children use for summer camp snacks at his side that he tears open immediately after seeing them, already dusting his fingertips with sticky Cheeto dust. He's just beginning to start up a game of _Gauntlet_ , making sure that he’s Player 1 and has the more advanced, customized controller,  when someone knocks on the front door. Stiles pauses and his ear twitches as he begins to worry that the music actually _was_ too loud and someone had called a deputy.

Especially when he smells someone who’s pissed.

Sucking his fingertips on the way there to relieve them of the sticky orange residue, Stiles steps up to the foyer, totally disregarding the peep hole or the steaming scent behind it. Opening the barrier causes a complete onset of different emotions to erupt from Stiles, but he has a poker face and knows how to use it well. An Alpha, he can tell, stands 6’2” with heavy boots on and a stiff leather jacket that totally isn’t his. He’s got the strap of a school bag gripped tightly in one hand, and Stiles begins to wonder if this is someone who’s been bullying Scott deciding to return something he took. The wind blowing in strongly from the outside air is chilling, and goose bumps spread over Stiles’s uncovered legs. The silence is thick, and he and the mystery man are both staring at each other intently. The Alpha with cold and intense eyes, and Stiles with something a bit warmer and ready. All the same, neither is making a move.

“Alright, this pizza is _done_ !” Scott waltzes into the entrance of the living room teetering the entree in one hand as a waiter at a restaurant would, “Time to bust out these-- _Derek?_ Oh, shit, _Derek._ ”

“Derek” grunts, thinned lips sucked into his mouth and continues to wait with an expression on his face that looks a lot like aggravation and regret.  

 

*

 

Derek is understandably pissed and his eyebrows grow even closer together into a scowl as Scott McCall explains how he forgot about their study session for AP Psychology (in which was planned earlier in the week). Derek is a planner specifically _because_ he likes to avoid these kinds of situations, and he made clear with Scott McCall the time _and_ date this needed to take place. Scott McCall had even _insisted_ that they’d study at his house.

Derek scans the inside of Scott’s house from where he’s planted on the porch and is able to see an array of snacks and a mess of cords thrown haphazardly around a pile of pillows in what he assumes is the living room. While Scott rambles on breathlessly on about how sorry he is and how he “totally forgot about everything,” listing ways to make it up to Derek, the Werefox, Derek notes, standing next to him  turns while snickering behind long fingers in attempt to quieting himself.

After Scott finishes his rushing out apologies of, “dude,” “forgot,” “sleepover,” and something called a “Stiles,” he takes a deep breath and faces the werefox. “Dude, why didn’t you tell me it was _Friday_?”

Apparently, “Stiles” is the name of the werefox who was then sitting cross-legged on the L-shaped sofa in the living room.

“Dude, we literally went to school today! I just thought that you wanted to start early on our sleepover. I wasn’t gonna complain.”

Scott groans into his hands and turns to Derek, motioning to Stiles as if it explains all things confusing in the world and then proceeds to walk back into the house.

Derek stays at his spot on the porch, because he still doesn’t know what the hell just happened nor what the follow up plan is.

“Aren’t you going to come inside? We can still study, it’ll be fine.” Scott asks Derek inquisitively. The werefox, _Stiles_ , Derek has to remind himself, sighs with an air of annoyance. “You didn’t invite him in, yet. You know how you Alphas are,” he says with a mocking tone layered in his voice, “just like vampires.”

“Vampires aren’t real,” Derek responds without realizing, and Stiles’s eyes shift to him, staring Derek down until something that feels a lot like discomfort fills throughout his being.

Derek steps inside before Scott invites him in.

 

*

 

They’re all seated at the McCall’s dining table now with books and food splayed across. Stiles insisted that they’d keep the pizza out despite Scott. Derek foregoes a plate, but the werefox in front of him has multiple slices of the greasy stuff piled up. He wonders how any of that can fit inside of such a tiny person, let alone a fox. Video game music plays in the background and Derek is just sick of it all. He turns his eyes slightly, eyeing Stiles as he eats all of the gross junk food, mixing pizza and candy and fries together in one bite, stuffing his already-full-looking cheeks. He notes Stiles’s reddish-brown hair and wide, whisky eyes that get tiny as his mouth stretches wide in laughing fits.

He’s got a large mouth. Plump, pink lips and a sharp cupid’s bow that he keeps swiping his tongue over.

Stiles is wearing a burgundy school hoodie that obviously isn’t his. Derek can tell by the ‘BHHS’ printed on the front in bold white. Stiles doesn’t go to their school; Derek would have known. The article smells like Scott and that makes Derek’s wolf growl for some outlandish reason. His eyes can’t help travel down to Stiles’s pale legs; how one is gently folded over the other, bare from the shorts he’s wearing. Stiles hardly looks at Derek, paying more attention to Scott, trying to convince him to cook up some curly fries. Derek isn’t too fond of his eating habits or the fact that he has to wait even longer until they start actually studying. Stiles is giving Scott the meanest of puppy eyes, and Derek can already tell that it’s a losing battle for the other Alpha.

“I promise this won’t take long,” Scott tells Derek, looking at him with yet another apology in his eyes.  They both know that it’s a lie. It takes a good amount of time to properly make fries without burning the kitchen down or giving someone food poisoning. Wolves don’t get sick, but foxes do. “Stiles, _behave_.”

“Scott, I can totally help out with this,” Stiles smirks deviously, then directs himself to Derek. “I’m way good in Chemistry.”

“We’re studying Anthropology,” Scott bides.

“It’s Psychology,” Derek corrects, and both of the boys looked shocked, because that’s Derek’s second full sentence since being there.

“Aren’t they the same thing?” Scott tilts his head to the side and Derek notices how uneven his jawline is. His wolf smirks at the imperfection, pleased at the fact that his chances with the fox are lowered significantly because of it. Derek doesn’t understand it.

“Look,” Derek sighs as he gets up and starts to stack his binders and books on top of each other, “maybe we should just do this individually instead.”

“No!” Scott shoots up from his spot at the table, “look, Stiles can help! He’s really great in Anthropology. He can help you with whatever the project is on. For real!”

“Psy-cholo-gy,” Derek huffs, annoyed once again that he has to dumb something down for Scott. The werefox shouldn’t be hanging around someone this unorganized and discombobulated.

“Well, he can do that, too! Stiles is good at everything,” Scott smiles.

Derek’s contrasting eyes meet with Stiles’s across the table.

“And he means _everything.”_ Stiles winks.

 

*

 

“How did you get so good at this?” Derek asks around a mouthful of pepperoni, Chicago style.

“Well,” Stiles starts on a breath, swallowing down his own bite, “My mom died when I was ten-years-old, and it was a super hard time for me. And my dad was also going through some issues, too, and if that wasn’t enough of a kick to the ass, I presented as an Omega a few weeks after.” Derek looks like he’s genuinely interested in what Stiles has to say, and that motivates him to keep speaking. “I went through a lot of...stuff....and wanted to know for myself what was going on in here,” he says, tapping his head with his index finger, “so I started doing research at a really early age and it never left.” He looks up and smiles slightly without teeth.

Derek nods accordingly, not knowing what to say. Stiles soon speaks up again, and Derek’s grateful for it. The room had become a lot less tense than before. “Why Friday?” Stiles asks. He continues talking when he sees Derek’s confused expression. “Why do you want to study on a Friday? You can’t just do it on a Monday when there’s nothing else to do that day anyway?”

“I have a game on Saturday. Then I have practice the rest of the week. My mom made an exception today.” Derek explains, and Stiles is totally feeling like they’re getting somewhere.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Stiles says happily, shoving their written notes aside and eventually sending them flying off of the table, much to Derek’s displeasure. “But I’ve never seen you at a lacrosse game and I go to all of them for Scott,” Stiles questions with a perplexed expression. Derek feels a rumble crawl up his back, and it’s too late before he realizes that he’s growling because of Stiles mentioning Scott. He looks up again and Stiles is just staring with a blank expression, seemingly unbothered by the growling.

“That didn’t scare you?” Derek is usually looked at as the bully, even though he hardly speaks in school aside from when he’s training in the weight room with his team. When he shows any side of his wolf, people tend to go running for the hills.

“Scare me? You just told admitted to me that your mom controls your high school life. I think you’re pretty harmless.” Stiles responds cooling. They both turn their heads towards the sound of Scott yelping, and Stiles laughs when Scott clears their worry with a shout of, _“that was just the grease popping!”_ Every few minutes proves to Derek how clumsy and unfit Scott is.

Stiles begins to interrogate again, “which is it?”

“Which is what?”

“What sport do you play if not lacrosse? Do you go hunting for wild game or something?”

Derek’s face heats up before realizing Stiles is only kidding around. “I play basketball. I know Beacon Hills is known for lacrosse, but I’ve been playing basketball since I was a child. It was something my father and I used to play together. I guess I’ve got something that never left me, either.” The room begins to quiet, and Stiles makes a face as if he knows what Derek means. Knows that his dad has passed away, too, just like his mom.

All appearances aside, Derek can easily spot that Stiles is a fox. His mannerisms are fox-like; they come just as quickly as they go. His voice is whispy and he ends every sentence he says as if there’s a question to be answered. He’s jumpy, but not in a way that will make someone nervous. He’s open and invited, and usually, that’s when they turn on you. Well, that’s the stereotype, but for some reason, Derek finds trust in this one. He’s got a scent like a fox, and it smells really _good_. It’s spicy, and he hadn’t caught it before. Derek can’t stop inhaling discreetly, and Stiles tilts his head jubilee when he notices, bottom lip sucked in. Stiles doesn’t say anything, just tilts his head more. It’s as if he’s revealing his neck so the scent will grow stronger. . .

“So. Derek.” A sharp voice breaks their silence, and Derek turns He sees Scott carrying a pan of what looks like the grease he cooked the fries in. Scott is glaring, like he knows something Derek doesn’t. Stiles only rolls his eyes and begins to chew his pinky nail, clearly annoyed.

“Are you guys studying or not?”

Scott is eyeing the notes on the floor and his expression grows more agitated. Derek isn’t exactly sure what’s going on. Getting up and grabbing the books from the floor, he responds, “ I think I’m going to go. Game tomorrow. It’s getting late.”

“No, you’re staying here and we’re going to finish studying,” Stiles directs Derek’s way. “Scott, I was just telling him about mom.” Stiles knows it’s a weak shot, but he _was_ talking about his mom. “We were going over the Linguistic Relativity Hypothesis. Don’t go all batshit. Are my fries done?”

“Yeah, they’re done.” Scott huffs turns to get the fries when Stiles holds his hand out and goes to get them himself. He’s then alone with Derek in the room, and Derek feels awkward. Knows he looks it. Scott seems to have calmed down somewhat, yet Derek’s wolf seems defiant, angered that Derek had let an Alpha upstage him.

Stiles is back with what seems like the entirety of the bag of fries Scott had made, and spurts ketchup all over them. “How did you guys meet?” Stiles looks at Derek when he asks.

“We sit at the same table in class. We’re partners for the quarter with anything we do. It’s actually my first year here. I’m from New York.”

They all fall into easy conversation with Stiles telling Scott what he had taught Derek earlier while Scott was cooking. Scott seems to understand it all an hour later. Stiles is yawning by then and it’s unclear whether it’s from exhaustion or boredom, seeing ass how his eyes are still incredibly wide and focused. It’s nearly passed Derek’s curfew, and he seriously has to go. “Why don’t you sleep over here with us?” Stiles offers. “All we’re gonna do is play videogames and stuff. It’s not like we’re going to play 7 Minutes in Heaven or anything like that. I mean, unless you want--”

“Stiles!” Scott scolds, and Stiles bursts out in laughter at both his and Derek’s flushed faces. “He’s in heat right now, don’t worry about him.”

Stiles’s laughter cuts off sharply. “Gee, Scott, why don’t you just give him my Social Security number now that we know everything about each other,” he scoffs coldly. Scott immediately apologizes. It’s obvious that he was so quick to excuse Stiles’s behavior that he didn’t think about what he said beforehand.

“Anyway,” Stiles cuts Scott off and turns to see Derek to the door. “See you at your game on Saturday?”

Derek can’t particularly tell if Stiles is telling him or asking him, so he just nods his head, not knowing what to say back.

“Great.” Stiles practically slams the door in his face.

As Derek walks back to his Camaro, he hears the onset of an argument in the McCall house.

 

*

 

Stiles turns around in the mirror to look at his ass in his Adidas tracksuit. “OK, I know it looks big, but I don’t want to look fat,” Stiles whines to the redhead sitting on the edge of his bed, evaluating his outfits.

“Stiles, this is why you should always pick your outfits out the night before,” she says in annoyance.

“Uh, no? That’s why I hired you, Lydia.” Stiles continues to spin around in front of the body-length mirror as he figures out what to wear to Derek’s game.

“‘Hired’ me?” Lydia sounds baffled, “Stiles you offered me an iTunes card that had one dollar and ninety-nine cents on it.”

“Yes,” he answers back, “and now you can buy the latest of Rita Ora.”

“Who?” Lydia’s face is scrunched up in confusion.

“Exactly. She needs some support.”

Stiles finally decides to go with the tracksuit despite his earlier insecurities. He doesn’t do his hair up any kind of way, he just lets it stick up everywhere in what his dad calls “Porcupine Style.” He never got Derek’s number on Friday night, but he knows Scott has it. Scott is coming with him, but that was to be expected, really. It was another cool night and Stiles dressed accordingly for it. He had never actually been inside of Beacon Hills High School, let alone the gym. He’d alone be outside to see Scott’s lacrosse games. He’s nervous for some reason. What do you even do at a basketball game? Which part does he cheer at? Stiles doesn’t know the concept of basketball, but he doesn’t have time to ponder on it anymore because it’s almost time to leave. His dad, of course, has a night shift. Stiles didn’t even bother asking if he could leave the house. Lydia leaves soon after he’s ready, and Stiles locks the bottom lock of his house. Getting into his Jeep is a bit of a struggle. One, because it’s cold as fuck and the heat isn’t working, and two, the windows won’t roll up and he’s cold as fuck. Stiles contemplates going back in the house to change, but goes against it, cursing his fox biology for doing nothing in terms of keeping him warm.

His teeth are clicking together by the time he pulls up to the school’s parking lot. There aren’t a lot of cars there, and Stiles is pretty sure he’s almost late. He wants to wait for Scott, but doesn’t want to be one of those people walking into the gym by himself. He would like to avoid unnecessary embarrassment, thank you very much. It’s windy and dark outside and his ears and nose are cold. He can see his own breath in the air. He texts Scott with shaking hands to ask him if he’s there yet, because there is no way he can talk without stuttering. The school is huge inside compared to Stiles’s own. The halls that aren’t in use are dimly lit and there are people walking into what he assume is the gym. He’s half-tempted to buy what smells like fresh, buttery popcorn at the concession stand, but goes against it. The inside of the gym represents the outside just as much; not a lot of people are on either side of the bleachers. It’s at least half the size of the amount of supporters at a lacrosse game. There are many spaces to sit and Stiles chooses a space at the very top of the bleachers, because he’s adventurous like that. The game hasn’t started yet, but there are cheerleaders stretching at the side of the gym.

Stiles’s phone buzzes and he sees that Scott is on his way inside. Stiles lets out a deep exhale that he didn’t know he was holding. He’s strangely intimidated right now and doesn’t know why. As much as he’s built the courage to live life as an Omega like any Alpha or Beta would, he feels pretty out of place right now without Scott with him. His instincts immediately go to everything his father had ever taught him about protecting himself and he doesn’t know _why_. He’s in any other high school. But his hair is standing on the back of his neck, ears twitching furiously and a claw pokes out. Instantly, he puts it in his mouth to chew it down. And that’s when he sees him.

Tall, blonde jackass. Someone from his past that he thought had left his life forever is on the opposing team, because _of course_ he is. Stiles tries to ignore it, but his claws keep coming growing--

“Hey. Are you alright?”

Stiles jumps, looking over to some brunette who miraculously appeared during another one of Stiles’s nervous breakdowns. Right.

“Sure, I’m fine,” Stiles responds cooling, “why do you ask?” The brunette just chuckles a bit.

“You’ve got a furry ear,” she tells him. Stiles’s hand shoots up to cover his ear and she’s right. It’s furry. “Sorry,” Stiles tells her quietly, “I swear I’m not dangerous. I can control my shift.” The woman looks at him strangely and looks like she’s about to say something before a buzzer goes off. She nods her head, and goes back to sit down with what looks like her family. The family that’s totally Derek’s family. The brunette, a little girl who looks to be in middle school, and a small baby sitting in the lap of what appears to be Derek’s mother, fill one section of the row. Behind them, two boys who look like they could be twins. They’re all wearing jerseys that say ‘HALE’ and that makes Stiles smile some. He’s always appreciated large families.

The players come out and Stiles spots Derek instantly, dressed in a uniform of mostly white with maroon outlining. Stiles purrs.

Derek doesn’t spot him until halftime, because that’s when Scott finally arrives and they get food from the concession stand. He’s huddled in the center, talking to a teammate when it happens. It nothing but a quick nod to the head, and then he’s back in the huddle. Stiles can’t help but feel disappointed, but he knows how serious basketball is to Derek, so he gives him the benefit of the doubt.

 

*

 

Stiles winces as Derek misses the last shot during his three-pointer lineup. He’s missed almost every basket he’s shot at so far, and it’s evident how upset he’s getting. He’s had to sit out twice. The Cyclones are losing by a landslide and some people have even left because the game has gotten so bad. Derek’s family looks worried and Stiles knows how they feel. The game is actually pretty embarrassing to watch, but Stiles is determined to cheer him on.

 

*

 

They lose roughly. Stiles doesn’t even want to look at the scoreboard. Scott pats Stiles on the back and gives him a look that Stiles takes as a “go down there and support your man,” kind of thing. Stiles gets up and steps down carefully until he reaches the bottom of the bleachers. He’s hesitant to approach Derek who’s talking to the coach. The coach is patting him in the shoulder in understanding and walks off. The Omega puts on a brave face and tips on Derek’s shoulder. They’re standing alone in the middle of the gym as everyone else has gone to reunite with their team into the locker rooms.

“Derek?” Stiles asks tentatively. He gasps when Derek turns around to face him. His eyes are an angry, piercing crimson.

“Stiles.” His voice is void of the emotions displayed on his face.

“Hey,” Stiles breathes out, trying to smile and soften the mood. “How are you?”

It’s the first time Stiles has seen Derek roll his eyes, and with them being red like they are, Stiles has trouble holding back the purr in his throat.

“How do I look?”

 _Beautiful,_ Stiles wants to say.

“You look like you had a rough night and need some emergency booze.” Derek’s eyes widen and he looks around as if Stiles had just said he’d brought a bomb into the school. Stiles yelps as Derek grabs his hand and drags him out into an exit that Stiles hadn’t seen before.

“You can’t just say shit like that with my coaches and family everywhere! They’re werewolves, Stiles. I don’t want them to think I’m some kind of alcoholic.”

The strongest of “bitch, please,” expressions slap across Stiles’s face, “Dude, calm down. It was a joke. You’re too tense. It was, you know, a suggestion?” They’re both quiet for a while and Derek looks like he’s contemplating going to boot camp.

“Fine. But who’s going to drive?”

“No one. No one’s driving.”

Derek huffs out a sigh and Stiles speaks before the Alpha has a chance to say forget about the whole thing.

“We’re gonna shift.”

*

Derek convinced his family to allow him to catch a breath of fresh air with Stiles outside, allowing him to burn off some steam and cool down. It’s like they’d instantly caught an attraction to the fox.

Stiles’s fur is even more beautiful than Derek could imagine. He’s never seen a fox so shiny. He’s never seen anything like Stiles before. He’s a deep reddish-orange with black paws and a short snout. His eyes are the same golden color they are in human form, just as Derek knew they’d be. He could tell that Stiles was cold, even in shifted form, so he brushes against him every now and then, causing Stiles to yip playfully. Wolves and foxes don’t necessarily get along, but Stiles obviously has never had that ideology. He jumps and dives into the grass happily under the clouds. Derek’s never thought of himself as anything more than average. His wolf is grey and that’s about it. He’s got a whole family of grey wolves and it’d would be easy to get him mixed up with another.

They’re only in the woods. Derek isn’t sure how they’re going to drink in this form, but he trusts Stiles to lead the trail ahead of them. The trail leads to an opening that Derek’s been to a few times when he was learning how to shift. It’s the place where everyone practices what to do, how to defend themselves and such. What he’d never noticed, though, was the piling of logs at the side of the sparkling river. Sometimes, Sparks do something to the river to make it shine, and it seems like they’ve been here tonight. It’s crystal blue, even under all of the clouds. Stiles yips and Derek turns his head. Under the logs seem to be some kind of hut that he’s dug. It’s cold and wet underneath the logs, but sturdy and sure. Derek sniffs and snuffs around the small space. When Derek finishes scoping, he turns, wondering why Stiles has been so silent. When he sees the boy, no longer in fox form, he makes as much of a gasping noise as he can. Stiles is naked. It’s dark, even with his supernatural eyes he can’t see Stiles’s whole body, but his chest is in view. He’s got fleshy nipples that match the color of his lips. It’s awkward, and Derek feels vulnerable being the only one in form. He shifts too.

He tottles behind a log, trying to save some piece of his dignity. They’d both ditched their clothes in Stiles’s car. It’s quiet, and somewhere there’s a sound of water droplets dripping.

“How come you played so badly tonight?”

Derek is shocked at Stiles’s boldness and his cheeks burn in a blush.

“Someone stole my jacket.”

“Your uniform jacket?” Stiles’s head tilts in the way that Derek can help but smile at.

“No. My leather jacket. It’s my lucky jacket.”

“That’s so cute. You need a good luck charm to play well. Why that one?”

Derek pauses before saying solemnly, “it was my belonged to my father.”

Recognition passed through Stiles’s face as if he’s remembering something, contemplating a previous thought.

“Do you know who took it?”

The Alpha snorts and shakes his head. “Some asshole. You wouldn’t know him.”

“Try me,” Stiles demands.

“Some douchebag named Hunter Morrison. He and his stupid coupe. He’s on the basketball team that we lost to today. I don’t know for sure if he took it, but I’ve got an idea.” Derek sounds a lot less angered than Stiles would’ve thought discussing something so personal. He more so sounds defeated.

Something short of disgust flashes across Stiles’s face and it isn’t short lived. It’s obvious that Hunter is someone Stiles has had issues with in the past. His breathing quickens and Derek almost goes over to him. A lifetime of emotions shines in his eyes and his forehead scrunches up.

“He and I were together throughout half of my high school life, so. I know how much of a jerk he can be. He’s one of those stereotypical try-hards that lead you on only to get one thing. When they’ve got it, they’re gone. Make it seem like you’re the one who wanted it so badly and then spread rumors.”

“I’m sorry he did that to you,” Derek sounds shocked, but his voice is laced with genuine perception.

“He’s a bitch,” Stiles laughs.

 

They’re quiet for a few minutes until Stiles looks from under his eyelashes to Derek and they both give a toothy grin.

“Company is the best medicine, huh?” Stiles asks Derek.

He chuckles, “I don’t think that’s how the quote goes.”

He gets a leaf thrown at him.

They talk about anything and everything, learning small things about each other and end up not needing a drink.

 

 

*

Stiles and Derek hang a lot after that night. Stiles visits his family’s house which is _huge_ and covered with memorabilia of several events. Family photos from every year surround the walls, and Stiles’s heart dropped when he saw the sudden disappearance of Derek’s father. Hanging out with his family is easy since they’d partially met before, but Cora does a lot of popping in on them and innocent. Laura and Talia secretly do, too.

      *

**every Winter, we have what’s called the Beacon Expedition where the town pretty much packs up and goes camping together.**

**there are a bunch of chaperones and it’s always really safe despite what may seem like a murder in the woods waiting to happen.**

**it’s really just a ploy to empty the town a bit so the police department can look around a bit with less hassle--make sure nothing weird is going around.**

**it’s also really fun and the s’mores are fantastic. You should sign up!**

**scott and I are partners each time.**

**we could really use a third! :)))**

Stiles sends the last text to Derek in hopes that he agrees to going on the expedition. Not only will that give Derek another taste of the town, but it’ll also keep his mind off of things at home. Each year, he and Scott travel up the mountains together where there’s a cabin available to everyone. There are activities for shifters, non-shifters, and everything in between. It’s a huge deal to their town, and they put a lot of work into making sure things goes smoothly every year.

Stiles phone vibrates and he sees that it’s a text from Derek.

**_That sounds like something my mother would say no to immediately._ **

Stiles furrows his brows.

**what if ur sister goes with u? please ask. i will bother u until i get confirmation of a ‘yes’**

**plz**

**plz**

**plz**

**plz**

**_My mother said yes._ **

**plz**

**wait what????**

Stiles blinks a few times to make sure he’s reading correctly.

**_I just told her you were going. She said yes. Talk to you tomorrow._ **

**omg!!! yesss :) ok good night!**

*

 

**lyds, I have this iTunes card with ur name on it.**

 

*****

“Make sure you are on your _best_ behavior, Stiles. I mean it. Don't pull that shit that you did last year,” Noah tells Stiles as he helps fasten the top of his Winter coat. Stiles rolls his eyes. During this time, his dad goes total and complete Sheriff Mode, and Stiles can't stand it. It's like he's being disciplined without having done anything.

“I know, Dad. Can I go now? Scott is outside waiting for me.”

“I just want you safe, kid.”

They hug each other and Stiles gives his dad a kiss on the cheek while exchanging “I love you’s” on the way out. He’s so ready to be out in the open air, hanging with Scott and Derek. A burst of cool air comes onto his face as he opens the door, and this time he's ready for it. Scott rented a car for the trip uphill since he couldn't take his mom’s. The Omega watches his dad in the doorway before Scott pulls out of the driveway. He leans his head against the window, appreciative of the way the car rumbles. It doesn't sound or feel as smooth as Derek's Camaro, but it brings back good memories that makes Stiles bite his lip. Dialing Derek’s number seems surreal. He's actually going on the expedition with Derek. He's actually going to spend his Winter Break with Derek.

Derek is packed and ready by the time they pull up. Stiles is still amazed about how big it is. Scott is pretty quiet, choosing to look out the window will Derek’s luggage gets packed into the car. Stiles, with his shoes toed off, climbs over the console and sits in the back with Derek. He knows it's going to be a long ride, and already warned Derek about it. Scott says he's fine with driving the whole time, but Stiles only thinks he's saying that because of the whole “Alpha In Charge” thing. It’s early in the morning, and Stiles is determined to have energy the whole way through. He hangs his head and closes his eyes, hoping to wake up with his head on Derek’s shoulder.

 

*

 

Stiles has fallen asleep on Derek’s shoulder. His warm breath raps against Derek’s neck gently and his hair tickles Derek’s cheeks. It’s funny, really, how easily Derek can let his guard down around Stiles and how influential the Omega is to everyone he meets. Derek’s mother never would've let him do this is New York.

The radio is playing some type of soft Folk band, perfect for the climate. Derek is aware of Scott looking at him in the mirror every few seconds, face expressionless. It's hard to tell what Scott’s feelings are for Stiles, or why they seem so connected at the hip. Derek smells no indication of attraction from either of them, but something is there that's closer than what Derek can analyze. Derek is falling asleep himself when Scott speaks up for the first time since the ride.

“You like him.”

It's not a question.

“I do. Something wrong with that?” Derek responds back.

Scott chuckles a bout of air, “Don't get too cocky. No one’s attacking you. I’m not gonna be cliché and tell you not to break his heart or anything, but don’t lead him on. He’s invested in this and I don't want it to end up like how it happened before. I know he told you.”

Several thoughts process through his head.

 

 

The sky is spilling  cold, hard rain when then they finally pull up to their assigned cabin.

 

*

 

When Scott is assigned retreat partners with a beautiful  Beta human named Allison Argent, he does the “every man for himself” thing and dips on Stiles and Derek. The Omega fox pouts when Derek ends up being partnered with someone named Paige. Stiles thinks she’s okay, but she’s extremely cheeky and touchy, something Stiles has to refrain from growling at. Stiles doesn’t check to see who his partner is in lieu of stalking Derek and Paige throughout their hike. Paige is a human, which Stiles scoffs at.

  
“Hey, Kit.” Stiles hears a voice and spins around, nearly slipping and losing his balance until a hand underneath his back catches him. “I smelled you all the way from here. Still got that sweetness to you.”

Stiles pushes Hunter away with his whole being, which gets him pretty far. “Get away from me you fucking stalker.” He growls.

“Hey. I just checked the with the camp director and it looks like we’re partners, Stiles. This is supposed to be a relaxing retreat. Don’t make it harder than what is is.” Hunter looks sincere, but Stiles _knows_ him. He _hates_ him.

“I’m changing partners,” the Omega growls and begins to stomp off before he’s hooked by his elbow and pulled back.

“Stiles.” Hunter deadpans.

“No!” Stiles pushes back. “You started all those rumors about me, and even now, after all this time, you’re still fucking with me! You took my boyfriend’s jacket!”

Hunter’s blonde hair shakes in a laugh. “I can hear it when you lie, you know. I smelled how you felt when he was with that _human_. C’mon Stiles. I’m sorry for being a dick, but I’m trying to help you out.”

Stiles hardly hesitates saying yes. His jealousy is strong enough that he’ll risk being partnered with his ex than watch Paige smother Derek like this.

*

Later that night, while Derek and Stiles are in their cabin, the Alpha finds out about Hunter.

Stiles feigns innocence and pretends that he’s okay with it. He doesn’t ask about Paige and Derek doesn’t tell, which makes Stiles equally relieved and concerned. Scott stays with Allison, Stiles presumes. The cabin would be alight with anger and screaming.

Stiles wants Derek to be angrier than he is. He knows that they’re not dating, but.

When Derek gets into his bunk, Stiles wishes he would ask him to come, too.

He doesn’t.

*

Throughout the retreat, Hunter and Stiles wander out of the pack to do outlandish things that Derek’s sure to see. One time, Hunter even wraps his arm around Stiles’s neck and whispers into his ear while Stiles’s ear twitches and grows orange with fur. Derek’s eyebrows furrow and his teeth sharpen. Stiles pretends he doesn’t notice.

 

On the third day, the group starts hiking. They never follow a straight path, and the teenagers always end up shifting and diving into the lake under the mountains. Stiles and Hunter are one of the firsts to show up, but Stiles’s stomach grumbles in anxiety of swimming. He can do this. Certainly better than some human. The other show up soon after that. Some begin to take their clothes off before jumping in, and others decide to shift and lay down in the cold mulch.

Paige shows up behind Derek in some fancy type of swimwear that must ensure that she doesn’t freeze to death or something. She kisses Derek’s cheek before she jumps into the water. He makes eye contact with Derek.

He sees _red._

He knows he can’t swim. Foxes aren’t the best at it. But he can’t stand looking at Paige try to _impress_ Derek like that, like she knows she’s better than Stiles is. Hunter is gone, probably off to seek another Omega who’s already naked and in the water.

Stiles looks down to see Paige waving up to Derek, calling him to come down.

Stiles closes his eyes and  jumps in.

 

 

Cold. That’s the first thing that pops into Stiles’s mind when he breaks the surface of the icy water. Panic doesn’t set in until he opens his eyes and sees nothing but a blur of darkness and occasional light. He doesn’t know how to swim, and he’s a fool for thinking that he could do something as idiotic as this. He knows, _knows_ that the more you struggle, the worse it is. The easier it is to drown. He knows that in the back of his head, but it doesn’t do anything to soothe his mind, and before he even knows what he’s doing, he feels water around him move. His arms are tiring, and it’s then that he realizes that he ie’s flailing. It’s a losing battle, because he’s going deeper and deeper and the water is getting colder. A rush of bubbles travel out of his nose, and he’s left with little to no oxygen. He wants to call for help, but it’s impossible. Stiles’s throat tightens and he has no choice but to inhale. First, he feels a pain in his nose. The oxygen bubbles are sharp and painful, and he feels like it’s broken. His head clouds up, and he can’t think of anything anymore. All he knows is pain.

He passes out before he feels someone dive in and yank him against their body.

 

…

Brightness invades his vision, and he doesn’t even have time to squint before he’s vomiting for what feels like a lifetime and the gags turn into coughs and burps. His everything is hurting, and when he tries to turn over to cough some more, he finds that he can’t. Strong hands reach around his abdomen, and it’s then that he hears a voice in his ear saying something like, “alright, alright.” Someone is trying to comfort him while he’s dying.

                                                                                           ...

 

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Stiles says later in the hospital room that he’s been admitted to. “I wanted to impress you, even though I knew I couldn’t swim. I didn’t like you talking to that girl. She likes you, I can tell.”

“You shouldn’t be talking. You should be resting,” Derek leans over to kiss Stiles’s cheek, and immediately Stiles’s hand slaps over the area, a smile painting his face.

“You’re not angry at me,” he gasps in awe.

“What you did was really stupid. You should get some rest,” the Alpha stands and walks away.

The smiles fades from Stiles’s face when he watches Derek leave. Soon enough, Noah enters the room, and he looks old. Older than Stiles remembered before he left for the retreat. His eyes water when he thinks about all the events that occurred that led him here. The Omega’s nose burns and flares as tears flee down his eyes.

“Dad?” He asks with a small voice, “did Mom ever kiss you even though she was angry?”

Noah sighs and pulls a share up to the edge of Stiles’s bed. “All the time, kid. But that just gave me the reassurance that she still loved me. We weren't rich growing up, you know. We did alright. She was there for me when I needed her. There for everyone. Sometimes people just need a break, need to breathe,” he looks Stiles in the eye, “Derek loves you, Stiles. It's hard not to see it.”

 

*

It's the last weekend of Winter Break, and Stiles is stuck in the house, wrapped in several blankets. His face is straight as he jams his thumbs into the video game controller, killing all of his enemies on-screen. Derek hasn't spoken to him except for when he's asking for updates on Stiles’s health. Apparently, a blood test revealed that Stiles was severely low on iron. His fingers are in the cheeto bag when the doorbell rings. He wipes them on his pants, because he’d rather have dirty shorts than gross, spitty cheeto fingers. When he opens the door, he feels a sense of deja vu warp over him from the night he met Derek. The Alpha is standing there with his leather jacket on, latching a simple rubber balloon and a Get Well card. The shock is evident on his face and he looks up to see attentive eyes staring at him.

“I’m sorry,” they both say at the same time, looking back up at each other and laughing. Stiles chucks his body at Derek and Derek grunts, dropping both the card and forgetting the balloon. Their lips meet in a quick haste. It isn’t messy and it isn’t over soon until Stiles’s eyes open slightly and he sees a little girl chasing his balloon across the street.

“Hey!” He yells over at the girl, “that’s my balloon!”

“You’re really going to chase a small child over a two-dollar balloon?” Derek chuffs.

Stiles’s eyes flash their golden color. “Try me.”


	2. Epilogue: Next Year's Retreat

Derek pins Stiles’s hands above his head on the creaky mattress that smells of them both. He mouths at the Kit’s neck and licks a stripe up from the base and onto his lips. Stiles pokes his tongue out so that both of theirs meet and they begin to swallow each other, Stiles’s cheeks completely sucked in to take all of what Derek’s giving. They’ve got a rhythmic pattern of slow-heavy-fast-light going and Stiles’s breathing is heavy and quick. He can feel his slick drenching his sleeping pants and throws his head back when Derek reaches inside and rubs him there. He’s never been this wet before, not even when in heat. Never with Hunter. Never with anyone. He hasn’t had a proper heat, but this feels like it could be it. He’s pulsing and clenching around nothing and he just wants Derek inside of him. Derek’s weight is heavy, and Stiles mewls at the pressure being forced on top of him. The way Derek’s naked chest slides against his creates a sweaty friction that Stiles can’t take. He’s hardly been touched, but his cock keeps twitching and he feels like he’s about to explode.

“Shh, shh,” Derek is suddenly a heat in his ear, and it calms him down significantly. He looks down to where Derek is moving and he sees pointed ears, red eyes. He can hear and feel the vibration of Derek growling on his abdomen as he travels lower and lower. Stiles can see the pool of sweat on his stomach and it only serves to arouse him more. He’s lost in his thoughts, babbling incoherently and shaking. It’s the most out-of-mind he’s ever felt and it’s all over when Derek teeth graze his thigh.

Stiles’s eyes squeeze shut when he comes. His eyebrows are arched in pleasure and his mouth is open in a silent scream. He can feel his hips bucking wildly as Derek’s hands continue to pin Stiles’s onto the mattress. 

He holds his breath as he comes down and is hesitant to open his eyes. He knows that he shouldn’t be embarrassed, but considering he isn’t a virgin and Derek didn’t even make  _ contact _ with his dick, it’s hard for Stiles not to blush. He opens his eyes slowly and sees the Alpha, this beautiful man smiling at him, looking as if Stiles had just did something amazing. LIke Stiles had turned him into a father or something.

They keep a sock on the door for the rest of the day, but they’re both sure that everyone knows what they’re up to from a mile away if the creaking of the mattress is anything to show for it.

Stiles goes to sleep that night with a sated smile on his face and his Alpha’s hand in his own.

He's so telling Scott about this.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I know some parts seemed rushed, but I enjoyed writing every bit of it. All mistakes are mine!


End file.
